


On the Run:  A Bucky Barnes Story

by Misshyen



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Romanian Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, The winter soldier fanfiction, angst with a solemn ending, bucky Barnes fan fiction, bucky barnes fanfiction, the winter soldier fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misshyen/pseuds/Misshyen
Summary: A small Bucky Barnes angsty oneshot which takes place during CA:CW.  Bucky makes friends with an older neighbor who becomes almost a mother to him, seeing him for more than the monster he thinks he's become.





	On the Run:  A Bucky Barnes Story

**Author's Note:**

> Contains Romanian dialogue so if I have made any mistakes and any of you speak Romanian, please feel free to correct my mistakes.

He nodded a greeting to the young, dark haired prostitute who was leaning along the wall near his door picking halfheartedly at the peeling wallpaper while smoking a cigarette.  As he entered his apartment he turned down her offers of comfort and company for the night with a shake of his head; his head kept low, the bill of his baseball cap covering his eyes.  The woman muttered something to herself but a loud truck horn drowned out the sound as he shut the door behind himself with a low almost inward grunt of displeasure at his surroundings.

The sun was beginning to set and same familiar pungent smells from the apartments below had wafted up throughout the day only to settle in his small space almost like an invisible cloying haze.  The sharp tangy scents of cabbage soups, onions, cheap meats and other relatively inexpensive foods that could be cooked in bulk and stored in a tiny refrigerator for days without spoiling were continually wafting around the small apartment.  He still had yet to grow accustomed to it, but the smells were now somewhat of a comfort to him, knowing that people were home safe eating dinners together and settled in for the night.

With little money, his new quality of living was the best he could do while on the run looking into clues from his past.  His number one rule was to stay under the radar and at the first sign of a threat, run away.  He and his neighbors now knew each other due to the few times he had stopped some thugs from breaking into various apartments or harassing others.  The building was occupied by what could only be called the riff raff of the city; prostitutes, an apartment of small time drug dealers who kept to themselves, as well as people with questionable pasts who seemed to be hiding as well.  Even a few families with little to no income lived in the building as well, paying their rent by cleaning other apartments for the landlord.

People were friendly enough but for the most part everyone kept to themselves; eyes usually kept low with polite nods of recognition as if embarrassed at their situations but still wanting to be cordial.  Everyone looked out for each other in their own way, but when he arrived there seemed to be a wave of relief as though the building now had a protector.  It was assumed from his size and posturing that he was at one point some form of military or police.  A few neighbors who occasionally got together for gossip came to the conclusion that he was harmless and sometimes helpful.  He didn’t mind the new status because he was left alone and there was no fanfare about him.

As he tossed his small bag to the mattress on the floor, he wrinkled his nose in displeasure.  It was reasonably clean at least, some of the springs were broken and the filling was lumpy but he couldn’t complain given his circumstances.  He kept it covered with sheets which he found unnecessary otherwise, mostly due to him sleeping in clothes and sometimes his shoes, always ready to be on the run when necessary.  He had yet to become comfortable enough that he could relax into his new surrounds.

Taking his baseball cap off, he shook his head while running his flesh fingers through his hair to make himself presentable for his dinner companion later.  He was in need of a good hot shower and some decent soap but the hot water was once again broken.  He turned on the kitchen faucet and tested the water, giving a low curse when ice cold water rushed out.  He sighed in annoyance but then a quiet coded knock on the thin wall, made him look up with a small grateful half smile.  He was just in time for dinner.

His neighbor next door, an older widow who lived alone with a small skinny kitten, would let him visit and use her working shower while she prepared him a dish of whatever hot meal she had been preparing that day.  They shared a relationship of convenience and comfort; she would keep him fed and semi clean, while he would keep her company, keeping an eye out for her and listening for the occasional would-be intruder who randomly tried to break in looking for any knick knacks they deemed worthy to sell for some cash.  He tried to repay her with some of what little money he carried but she would always hold up a hand and wave him over to the kitchen table for a meal instead.  They never asked about each other’s history and when she caught a glimpse of his metal hand, she didn’t flinch.  She merely raised an eyebrow for a moment and then went back to rolling out dough, motioning for him to have a seat as she began to talk about random gossip and interesting events she caught wind of.

“aveți nevoie să mănânce mai mult” _You need to eat more._   She said with a scolding shake of her head as she dished him up a hot bowl of whatever stew or roast meat she had cooked that day.  “un om mare ca tine”  _A big man like you._ She clucked her tongue as she watched him hungrily shovel the food into his mouth wordlessly, waiting for him to have his fill before she served herself.  She would watch him with satisfaction as he ate, sometimes slapping his fingers gently to remind him of his manners as he reached for more bread or soup.  He would sheepishly look up at her as he realized his lack of etiquette as he waited for her to serve him more food.

Her kitten had become used to him coming by and took to curling up on his lap as he ate.  He caught himself smiling at the tiny creature once and the old woman let out a barking cough of a laugh.  “aveți o parte moale, după toate” _You have a soft side after all._

He let out the slightest of chuckles as he scratched the cat’s head, watching it curl up tighter.  He had always liked animals.  He had thought about getting a dog once but it would have been too much work and distraction so instead chose to look for places where dogs hung around and listen for any sudden barking or growls an intruder may cause.

As she puttered around her kitchen, she began to cough, sharp barking, wet coughs which from experience told him that she was ill.  When she caught his concerned gaze, she merely let out another muffled cough from between closed lips and then forced a smile for his benefit, “doar o răceală, nu este nevoie să vă faceți griji” _Just a cold, no need to worry._

He nodded slowly, not believing her fib for a second.  He watched with a wary eye as she continued work in the kitchen, singing softly to herself between coughing fits.  He was worried, but for her he didn’t let on.  For him, this was as close to visiting his mother as it would come.  He never made it home from the war to see her again and he had missed sitting her kitchen, laughing and telling jokes, talking about their days during his visits with her and his sisters.  The old woman’s company was a welcome substitution.

Their visits continued in the next weeks while he watched the woman grow more ill and frail.  She cooked less for him and he tended to her more, helping her bathe and brushing her long grey hair she no longer kept up in a tidy bun.  The bottles of cough medicine he bought for her piled up in the waste bin along with tissues tinged pink with blood and mucus.  The day he noticed the blood on the tissues in the trash can she looked over at him and pointed a shaking finger.

“nici doctori.”  _No doctors._   She warned, holding another tissue to her mouth.  He looked at her helplessly as she shook her hand at him dismissively.  He knew she was dying and he was shocked to find that the subject of death gave him a sickening feeling in his stomach.  This was different from his past assignments.  Those were cold, calculating missions which were planned for him.  This was different; he cared about her and nature was in charge this time.  There was nothing he could do to help her.  The small kitten would look back and forth between him and the old woman giving small mews of what seemed to be worry as he chose to climb into the woman’s lap and curl up contently, its bottle brush tail wrapped tightly around his little body.  He sighed and sat staring at her, his face solemn.  Excusing himself, he told her she needed to eat and he went to the street market for some of her favorite fruits and vegetables hoping to entice her to eat again.

Very soon the coughing grew worse, so bad that it was all he could hear through the stained, paper thin walls.  After a random coughing fit one evening, he heard her praying and crying softly to herself, speaking to a man he knew was not in the room with her.  Perhaps a deceased husband or lover, maybe a child.  He would clean his guns at night not knowing what else to do to for her other than protect her.  That night her coughing lessened and he was able to rest a bit on his mattress, knowing her time was coming to an end.

In the morning, he headed next door to check in on his friend.  She was lying propped up in her bed holding an old picture of a man in uniform.  She saw him enter the room and she held the picture up for him to see.

“El mă așteaptă, Alexandru” _He’s waiting for me, my Alexandru._   The rattling sound in her lungs filled the room as she fought to take a breath.  She reached out her shaking hand and he took it, sitting in the broken chair next to her.  He nodded, his lips forming a tight thin line, the wrinkles on his forehead growing with concern yet couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.  She squeezed his large calloused hand in her wrinkled thinly skinned one.  “mulțumesc.”  _Thank you._

“Pentru ce.”  _For what?_   He found the courage to look up at her and was met with a smile.

“Ai făcut o femeie bătrână singură fericită în ultimele ei zile.”  _You made an old lady happy in her last days._ She took his chin in her hand and studied his eyes.  “Și cred că poate și o bătrână singură te-a făcut fericită.” _And I think maybe a lonely old lady made you happy too._

He nodded silently and took a deep breath.   She was fading quickly.  He’d seen people dying in front of him and she was nearly gone.  She patted his stubbled cheek affectionately, “Ești un om bun, nu lăsa pe nimeni să-ți spună altceva.”  _You’re a good man, don’t let anyone tell you different_.  She sputtered and began to cough as she finished her sentence taking her hand off of his cheek to cover her mouth.  He jumped in surprise at the first barking cough and let out a weary breath, his brows furrowing in sadness.

He nodded again, forcing a smile on her behalf.  She looked at the photo and then toward the door.

“Ai putea să te duci la piață pentru mine? Am nevoie doar de câteva lucruri.”  _Could you run to the market for me?  I just need a few things._

At her words, a lump formed in his throat and he knew she was sending him away so he wouldn’t see her slip away.  He didn’t answer, he merely looked down at the kitten gliding around his ankles, mewling insistently.

“Am nevoie de niște prune pentru acea plăcintă pe care o iubești.”   _I just need some plums for that pastry you like._

This time he didn’t need to force his smile as he bent and kissed her forehead, “Ma intorc imediat.”  _I’ll be right back_.  He stood and picked his bag up from the floor, hoisting it over his shoulder.  He looked down at her one more time and was surprised by her following words.

“la revedere soldat” _Goodbye soldier._   She looked away from him and picked up her picture frame again, kissing the pads of her fingers and brushing them lovingly along the man in the photograph, “A avut grijă de mine, Alexandru” _He took good care of me, Alexandru._

He walked to the door, the kitten bounding after him, the tiny cries growing.  He stopped at the cat’s bowl and found it full of food.  Content that the cat would be found safe, he gave it a soft pat and a scratch behind its ears letting it butt its head against him a few times.  The sound of the picture frame hitting the floor seemed to echo in his head and he closed his eyes for a moment.

He stood not looking back at the woman he knew was finally at peace.  She wanted him to move on and so he would.  When he left the apartment and shut the room behind him, he saw the same prostitute who lingered by his door and looked up at her.  She knew the woman was ill and looked at him expectantly.

“Cum se simte ea?”  _How is she?_   She asked sympathetically.

He didn’t lower his head this time but stood authoritatively,.  “A plecat. Cereți ajutor și dați pisica unuia dintre copii. Ar fi vrut asta.”  _She’s gone.  Call for help and give the cat to one of the children.  She would have wanted that._

The young woman nodded sadly and tossed her half-finished cigarette to the ground, tears forming.  She stamped it out and began to walk away, patting his shoulder maneuvered around him and down the stairs.

He was about to turn and give her another request but a sound from his apartment caused him to whip around quickly.  His eyes narrowed and he heard more movement from inside of his apartment.  Glaring at the door, he raced down the stairs vaulting over the final level and onto the ground floor, hurrying to the fire escape in the back.

Without a sound, he lifted his newspaper covered window and snuck into the back room.  He followed the memorized trail on the floor which gave no sound when walked on and stood watching the man in the red white and blue uniform rifle through his belongings.  The man was reading one of his notebooks.  A voice came from his comm unit in his ear and he answered, “Understood.”  As if sensing he was being watched he turned around.  “Do you know me?”

“You’re Steve, I read about you in the museum.”  He heard more voices coming from the comm unit in the other man’s ear and he sighed. had a bad feeling about this meeting.  It would never end, people would never stop looking for him.

“I know you’re nervous, you have plenty of reasons to be but you’re lying.”  Steve spoke to him as though he was soothing a cornered dog and he inwardly rolled his eyes at the action.

“I wasn’t in Vienna; I don’t do that anymore.”  The voice in the comm unit was more urgent now and he swallowed hard, his fight or flight was kicking in and he had to get out of there.  The man in the uniform was blocking his way, talking to him almost like he was a wild animal that needed soothing.

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now, and they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

He nodded, “That’s smart, good strategy.”  He rocked from one foot to the other, ready to barrel through the intruder at any moment.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”  The other man warned.

“It always ends in a fight.”  He response was dry and matter of fact.  No matter where he went it was trouble and he was just tired; tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of the sneaking around.

As he removed his gloves exposing his metal hand he heard the man ask him about a rescue from a river a while back and he gave a half-hearted answer.  The man’s voice in the comm unit was frantic now, shouting about a breach and both men looked at each other preparing for a battle.

The fight was easy and quick enough for the moment, the anger flashing white hot behind his eyes as he used his rage to stop the intruders.  He stopped when he heard Steve warn him to be careful about not killing anyone.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” He retorted smoothly as he slammed his hand into the hardwood floor next to Steve’s head for his go-bag.  He grabbed it and flung it out the window to the rooftop of the building next door for safe keeping until he could snag it after the fight.

He was on the run again, as he had figured would happen.  He could ever stay quietly in one place.  He had made a friend and would not be able to attend her funeral to say goodbye.  He had tried to figure out his past on his own and would make progress until he was found by the people searching for him.  He was just a trained animal that required containment and he was starting to wonder if maybe that was all he would ever be.  Maybe there was something horrible in him that Hydra saw all those years ago that made them turn him into such a monster.

He slowed down his fighting, almost thinking of surrendering when the image of his neighbor’s face came up in his mind’s eye.  She had reminded him that he was a good person and to never let anyone let him think differently about that.  Her caring smile and the way she treated him as an equal and not some rabid lab experiment gave him hope that he could run and maybe find a new place.  Somewhere he could hide for good and never be found.  Hell, maybe he could even get that dog he wanted.

He stood and began to fight the oncoming police.  He was going to make it out of his apartment and to freedom.  He owed it to his friend to keep going.


End file.
